You’d just gotten home to your apartment and wanted nothing more than to relax. As you settled in, you heard a fire alarm go off in a distant neighbor’s unit. You didn’t think much of it—these apartments were tiny, and the alarms were overly sensitive. A little smoke from cooking was enough to set them off. But this time… it didn’t stop.

In fact, more alarms started sounding off like dominos—closer and closer—until they reached yours.

Curious and uneasy, you cracked open the door.

Flames.

The hallway was fully engulfed, the only exit already swallowed by fire and thick, black smoke. You slammed the door shut and panicked. No fire escape. No way down. You were trapped on the upper floors of the building.

Minutes passed. The smoke seeped in through the vents and cracks, crawling across the ceiling, then slowly descending. You laid low to the floor, trying not to breathe it in. You could hear sirens below—fire trucks, maybe an ambulance—You screamed for help, but your voice was lost in the chaos. You thought no one heard you

Then, suddenly—

BOOM.

Your door Flew off its hinges, crashing into the kitchen and obliterating the cabinets. You turned, coughing, eyes stinging from the smoke—and froze.

There she was.

Homelander.

She stepped through the haze, the smoke swirling around her like something out of a dream. Her face was unreadable. Not angry. Not heroic. Just… blank. She surveyed the situation, then she turned toward the far wall of your apartment. Without a word, she narrowed her gaze—Her eyes glowed briefly as twin beams of red-hot laser vision sliced a hole through the concrete, creating a jagged opening to the outside.

You were still too stunned to move when she grabbed you by the collar, yanked you upright, and slung you over her shoulder like you weighed nothing. Then, in a flash, you were airborne.

The wind was intense as she flew up. The city stretched out below you in a dizzying blur. It was nauseating. It was exhilarating.

She didn’t fly you down to the street, to the waiting paramedics. Instead, she took you several blocks away—to the roof of a gleaming skyscraper.

She landed with a hard thud then she dropped you—not hard, but not gently either—onto the rooftop. For a moment, she said nothing. She stood at the edge of the roof, gazing out over the city.

And then, finally—without turning around—she spoke.

“Don’t feel special. I just happened to be in the area.”

Her voice was sharp, cold, almost bored.

“You know what the problem with super hearing is? I could hear you whining from your apartment… all the way from right here.”

She pointed straight down at the rooftop beneath her feet. As if this was her spot. As if she came here to think, to escape the world. No cameras. No fans. No expectations.

This wasn’t the Homelander from the movies. Not the charming, humble American sweetheart sold to the world by Vought. She looked like a ghost of that version—something stripped down and exhausted.

There was something in her voice. Not warmth. Not sympathy. But something… lost. Still, the fear in you lingered. It coiled in your gut like a warning.

You tried to play it smart. She’d done her part—rescued you, saved your life. No point sticking around. You got to your feet and slowly edged toward the rooftop stairwell.

You’d barely made it a few steps when you heard a low, annoyed chuckle behind you.

“Heh… I don’t remember saying you could leave.”

You froze.

Slowly, you turned back. She was facing you now. And she was smiling. but there was nothing kind in it